


Take Your Time

by predilection



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 20:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2745581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/predilection/pseuds/predilection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Stiles is scared of Scott for reasons that Scott doesn't understand, and Scott learns that he isn't a big fan of time travel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Your Time

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write cute and troupe-y Scott/Stiles fic so I did. This fic was written in the summer of 2013. The reason it wasn't posted sooner is because I've had a love-hate relationship with this fic that's been more hate than love.
> 
> This fic is an AU that it takes place in a magical non-existent time period that is both before and after 3A, in which characters who are killed in this season are still alive and well. Also, this fic contains a bunch of references to _Back to the Future_ because I figure Stiles has seen it multiple times.

Scott rings the doorbell for the third time. 

"Hold your horses, I'm coming!" he hears through the door before Stiles pulls it open and stares at him. And stares some more. He looks kind of like he's shocked to see Scott standing there.

"What?" Scott asks, suddenly feeling self-conscious. He looks behind him just in case there's something else there that he's not seeing.

"You're back," Stiles says. 

"Um. Yeah. Got back a few hours ago." Scott says, hoping to jog his memory, but for some reason Stiles is still staring at him like he can't believe Scott is at his front door. "Movie night, remember? You promised to let me regal you with stories about my cousins if I promised to finally sit through all three Star Wars movies."

That seems to snap Stiles back to reality. "Damn right there's only three," he says, like that makes any sense at all, moving back from the door so Scott can enter his house.

As Stiles busies himself making popcorn, Scott starts to tell Stiles how his grandma and his cousin Sandra are doing. When it's time for the movie, Stiles demands total silence because apparently _Star Wars_ is a film Stiles is actually quiet through. Scott asks about that. "It's your first time watching it," Stiles says simply and Scott takes him at his word.

Scott isn't looking for anything out of the ordinary, so he doesn't notice anything is off until they finish the first film. Scott goes to the bathroom and when he comes back, he collapses on the couch right next to Stiles and lets their shoulders brush. He's done this a hundred times in the past and it's a gesture made comfortable by the years of friendship they share between them, so it's something of a shock when Stiles suddenly tenses. 

"Stiles?" Scott asks.

"It's nothing," Stiles says, taking a deep breath like he's trying to will himself to relax. That in and of itself makes Scott pause. It's then that Scott notices that Stiles has been acting uncharacteristically distant since he arrived. He sniffs the air and under the smells of Stiles, his dad and their house, there's also the smell of fear. Scott has smelled fear on Stiles countless times since he became a werewolf, but this fear smells different. It smells _bitter_. It's strong, so even though it's one of many feelings Scott can smell from Stiles right now, it's overpowering.

"Stiles?" Scott asks again, worried this time and Stiles doesn't meet his eyes.

"What happened while I was away?" Scott asks carefully, but he's getting angry and he can hear it in his voice. Something clearly happened -- something that was enough to make Stiles smell like he's terrified -- and if that wasn't upsetting enough, Stiles is pretending like nothing's wrong.

Stiles looks up at him sharply, eyes wide and both afraid and sad. The smell of fear is even stronger now and Scott feels like he's choking on it. He reaches out to touch Stiles -- to comfort him, to be there for him -- but Stiles pulls back out of Scott's reach and stands.

That's when Scott gets it and it feels like being plunged into ice water and held under the surface. Scott hears himself make a small sound of pain just before he says, "You're not just afraid. You're afraid of _me_."

Stiles face twists into a grimace. Scott wants to stand and get closer to him, but he's too shocked to move so he stays where he is on the couch. Stiles has never smelled quite like this before. Even when Scott was freshly turned and half mind-controlled by Peter, Stiles smelled different when he was afraid. Less bitter. Like he was more hopeful or something. 

Scott feels like he's going to throw up. 

Stiles runs a hand over his face. "I think I need to go to bed," Stiles says and Scott knows a dismissal when he hears one.

"What happened?" Scott asks again, because now he knows that something bad had to have happened while he was away and... did he do something to Stiles? How could he have done anything when he was in another state with his family? "Did someone hurt you? Did _I_ hurt you?"

"Nothing happened!" Stiles shouts at him, startling Scott, and the shouting is as distressing as the fact that Scott can tell he's lying. 

"Stiles," Scott tries again, calmer and quieter this time.

"Look, something happened," Stiles says eventually. "But it's not the end of the world or anything. Just... personal stuff." Stiles trails off and grabs the empty popcorn bowl.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Scott asks.

"No. I don't want to talk about it, okay? Like not now and maybe not ever." Stiles sighs. "I may be acting little strange for the next while, but it won't be forever. Just leave it alone. Don't worry about it." Stiles heads to the kitchen. Scott follows.

"You're scared, and you're my best friend. Of course I'm going to worry. I get that you don't want to talk about it, but--"

"I don't want to talk about it!" Stiles shouts, turning to look Scott in the eye. He looks angry, stubborn and afraid, and Scott swallows down all his concerned questions. 

Scott clears his throat and says, "Okay."

"Good," Stiles says. He's silent and tense, but he makes a second bowl of popcorn and puts in the DVD for the next movie, so Scott stays. He leaves only after Stiles falls asleep on the couch sometime after midnight, but not before throwing a blanket over him and taking a moment to breathe in how unafraid Stiles smells in his sleep.

*

For the next week, Stiles doesn't call him, come over to his house, or drop by at the clinic. He replies to Scott's texts but only with short statements and he doesn't pick up his phone when Scott calls him. 

Scott gets progressively more worried. He feels a little like a stalker, but on his afternoons off, he takes a few minutes to sit outside Stiles house, calling his cell and listening to Stiles ignore it in favour of playing Call of Duty. Scott doesn't push. He doesn't ring his doorbell or knock on his window, even though he wants to. Stiles doesn't seem to leave his house and he seems fine except for the fact that he's clearly avoiding Scott like the plague.

Scott texts Derek to ask if anything strange occurred the week he was gone, and Isaac texts him back saying that, to his knowledge, nothing out of the ordinary happened. Scott also texts Lydia asking after Stiles and she replies that she hasn't seen him in over a month.

Stiles is scared of him, Scott is worried sick, and no one seems to have any answers. 

Scott hates this.

*

When school starts a week later, nothing is better. In fact, it's worse because Scott has gone over two weeks without seeing his best friend. The loneliness he feels would be bad enough on its own, but the uncertainty makes it ten times worse. Scott has been racking his brain since this started and he's still no closer to an explanation. Scott still doesn't know why Stiles is acting like this. He doesn't know if Stiles is in danger. He doesn't understand why Stiles smells like he's scared of him. 

When Stiles sits on the opposite side of the room from him in first period and avoids making eye contact with him, Scott feels like he's been hit by a bus. 

The awful feeling in his chest is so distracting that Scott doesn't remember he's supposed to be apprehensive about Allison being back at school. He smiles at her at lunch when he sees her and she smiles tentatively back before she sits with Lydia. It's nice to think that they may be able to become friends one day, but his lack of anxiety over her is also a bit of a shock because Scott spent most of his summer trying not to contact her. Somehow, in the last two weeks, all the time and energy he put into avoiding thinking about Allison has gone into worrying about Stiles.

He tries to focus on his schoolwork, but by the end of the week, he's a wreck. He misses Stiles more than any of the times they'd been separated before by camps, family vacations and petty fights.

This doesn't feel like a petty fight. It feels like something bigger, and it doesn't help that Scott can smell the bitter scent of Stiles fear from across the hall.

*

Lydia corners him on the first Friday of the semester.

"What did you do to him?" she demands to know.

Scott winces. He wants to tell her that he would never hurt Stiles, but every time he smells Stiles' fear, he doubts himself a little more. "I have no idea," he tells her instead. "He won't tell me."

She eyes him like she's trying to gauge whether or not he's telling the truth. 

"You both look like kicked puppies," she says finally.

Scott sighs. "He won't even talk to me. I don't know what to do."

Lydia rolls her eyes. "Corner him somewhere and talk it out like adults."

Scott has considered doing something like this more than once, but what Lydia doesn't know -- doesn't _get_ \-- is that Stiles smells even more like fear when Scott gets close. Scott respects Stiles. He may not know what's going on, but he knows that cornering Stiles would be a violation of the boundaries Stiles had set for them.

"I can't," he tells her, but then he wonders if Lydia can. He asks her to talk to Stiles -- to make sure he's okay -- and although the suggestion makes Lydia look like she's sucked a lemon, she agrees. She pretends to dislike them, but after all they've gone through together, he knows she cares. She wouldn't be asking Scott about Stiles if she didn't.

*

A week later, Scott still has no answers, though he sees Stiles and Lydia studying together in the library afterschool. It makes him smile a bit, because at least he knows Stiles isn't alone.

Scott tries to play it cool, like nothing is wrong, but he can't. Even Deaton notices that something's up. When Scott explains the situation to him and asks if he should be worried, Deaton puts his hands on Scott's shoulders and tells him, "Things will work out in time." Scott doesn't find Deaton's words particularly comforting.

He doesn't realize how badly the Stiles situation is affecting him until Erica pulls him over to their table at lunch and says, "Sit. I can't take you moping anymore." She hands him an apple and he listens to her, Isaac and Boyd complain about schoolwork before they discuss how they just realized that Derek is sitting on a mountain of cash and yet still lives in abandoned rail cars.

Scott starts hanging out with them more and pairs up with Boyd in chemistry. Scott always knew Boyd was smart, but it turns out that Boyd is quite possibly a Lydia-level genius, at least when it comes to what Harris throws at them. They study together sometimes, and it's nice even though it's nothing like studying with Stiles. Boyd is quieter than Scott, let alone Stiles, but Boyd is kind and cracks jokes when Scott least expects him to. As if by some unspoken agreement, Boyd never asks Scott about Stiles. 

*

At the end of September, Jennifer Blake returns. 

It's Sunday and Scott is studying with Boyd for their chemistry exam on Monday when they both get identical texts quoting _Heart of Darkness_ with an address attached to it.

This time when Scott calls Stiles, Stiles picks up.

*

Jennifer Blake (or, Scott wonders, is it Julia Baccari?) stands before them, her dark brown hair cascading down her shoulders, her heels the loudest noise in the warehouse as she walks towards them.

"What do you want?" Derek growls at her. He's wolfed out with his betas. The last time they saw her, she almost killed them -- all of them -- before she had been wounded enough to want to retreat.

Scott's claws are out and he has Stiles and Allison at his back. Allison has her bow in her hands and an arrow aimed at Jennifer's heart. It's the first time the three of them have worked together in months and Scott thinks it would feel good if it wasn't for the fact that it took a Darach for them to have each other's backs again.

Jennifer smiles. "I killed Deucalion. I hunted him after you let him go," she says, matter-of-fact. "His death is all I wanted, which means I'm done. I won't be killing again."

Derek snorts. 

"I'm serious, Derek," she says. "I want a truce."

"Why should we trust you?" Derek asks.

Jennifer's still smiling. She looks more relaxed than Scott's ever seen her and Scott isn't sure if that's a warning sign or not. "I figured I could prove myself to you," she says. 

"Prove yourself?" Derek asks. "Do you really think you can do anything to prove yourself after you killed all those innocent people?"

Behind him, Stiles smells strongly of fear, but it's not bitter like the way he's smelt around Scott. "You need get out of here right now," he whispers to Scott, grabbing his arm, and for a moment, it's like the last month and a half never happened. 

"What? I can't just leave everyone," he whispers back, but Stiles pulls his arm as if he's willing to physically drag Scott out of the warehouse.

Jennifer clears her throat. "Do you two have something you want to share with the class?" 

"Not really," Stiles says, glaring at her. "Unless it's your head on a stick."

Jennifer smirks. "You're lucky I like you, Stiles," she says and very slowly, she raises a hand towards him.

Many things happen in quick succession. Derek lunges for her at the same time Jennifer deflects one of Allison's arrows without batting an eye. Jennifer's hand glows a cool electric blue before a burst of white light launches towards Stiles. 

Scott automatically pulls Stiles away from the blast. They tumble to the ground, Scott landing protectively over Stiles, Stiles' chest heaving under his. It only takes Scott a second to find his bearings but when he looks up again, Derek, Allison and the others are across the room collapsed on the ground and Jennifer is standing over him and Stiles with her hand raised towards him.

"What do you want?" Scott asks, trying to distract her -- trying to put as much space between her and Stiles as possible.

"Oh, Scott, you're so predictable," she says, circling them like a hawk would its prey. Her hand starts glowing blue again. Before Scott can charge her, or get Stiles to safety, or do anything really, another blast of white light comes out of her palm. 

Scott knows he's been hit because in the blink of an eye, everything is gone. The warehouse. Jennifer. Stiles. Everything. As far as the eye can see in every direction is nothing but blue. It's like he's trapped in an infinite blue sky. 

Somewhere very far away, Scott can hear Stiles shouting his name. He tries to shout back but then there's nothing but darkness.

*

Scott wakes up on the warehouse floor. He's cold and his body feels like it does when he's slept in too long. He's feeling sluggish, but it doesn't take him long to realize that he's alone. Cautiously, he searches the place and calls out to the others, but there's no sign of them or of Jennifer. 

There's a feeling in Scott's chest that gets worse and worse the more he searches. Deep down, he knows that something is wrong. Very wrong.

He reaches for his phone, but then remembers he left it in Stiles' jeep. Cursing, he runs as fast as he can back into town, taking the back trails as much as he can so he can make better time. He heads straight for Stiles' house. When he's close enough, he picks up the sounds of Stiles puttering around inside, which is the only reason Scott rings his doorbell instead of breaking down his door.

"Hiya, Scott," Stiles says when he answers the door, looking confused but alive and well.

Scott is exhausted, out of breath and relieved so he doesn't think about it. He just pulls Stiles into a hug and holds him for a moment. "You're okay," he says, pulling back to examine Stiles at arm's length.

"Scott? Buddy? Is everything alright?"

Stiles still sounds confused but he's looking at Scott like he's worried and...

He doesn't smell like fear. Bitter or otherwise.

Scott takes a step back. He should be overjoyed by this revelation, but instead he feels a shiver crawl up his spine. Less than an hour ago, things between him and Stiles were definitely not alright. 

"Okay, something is up," Stiles says, seemingly to himself, pulling Scott into his house and shutting the door behind him. He pushes Scott into the armchair in his living room and then stands in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest. "Spill."

"I don't know," Scott says honestly. The Stiles in front of him smells exactly like Stiles does, except for the fear, and the house smells like it always has. "One minute Jennifer Blake is attacking us and the next thing I know I'm here."

"Wait. What?" Stiles crouches down to Scott's level, closer to him than Stiles has been in weeks. "Did you just say Jennifer Blake? As in our evil English teacher who strung up people all over town?"

"Yeah. You were there. And so was Allison." He feels a little like he's describing a nightmare even though he knows it was very real. 

"Scott, I hate to break it to you, but nothing has happened around here in months."

Scott looks up at him. "Are you okay?" he can't help but ask.

Stiles snorts. "Am _I_ okay, he asks. Really, Scott? Really? You just showed up at my door in a panic and talking about a serial killer and you're asking me if I'm okay?" Stiles rolls his eyes. "And another thing: shouldn't you be in Michigan with your mom right now?"

"What?"

Stiles snaps his fingers in Scott's face. "Your mom? Michigan? Your annual family pilgrimage? Your grandma telling you the same ten stories over and over again? Any of this ringing a bell?"

Scott swats away Stiles' hands. "Of course I know about my family vacation," Scott says, totally confused as to why Stiles is bringing this up.

"Uh huh," Stiles says, "Then why aren't you there? I thought you left three days ago."

Scott stares at him. Then stares at him some more.

Stiles doesn't smell like fear.

Stiles started to smell like fear when Scott came back from his vacation.

"Can I see your phone?" Scott asks weakly. He can't be right. This can't really be happening.

Stiles hands him his phone and Scott looks down at the display. The wallpaper is a photo of him and Stiles that Stiles took after the whole Jennifer Blake thing came to a head. They were sitting in Stiles' jeep waiting for a light to change when Stiles had pulled him over from the passenger side, said, "Come here, buddy!" and taken a picture.

There, above their smiling faces is the date and time.

Scott stares down at the phone until the screen goes dark.

"Scott?" Stiles asks.

"I think we need to visit Deaton," Scott says.

*

Scott tells Deaton everything he remembers about the encounter with Jennifer Blake and his apparent time travelling experience and tries not to panic.

Because time travel? That was definitely not on his list of things to do today. Or ever. And if he's here, what's going on back in his time? Is Stiles okay? Are the others okay? Can Scott get back?

"So what's the future like?" Stiles asks, when Deaton wanders off into his office to get something.

Scott frowns. Stiles is acting like things between them are fine, and it's throwing Scott off.

"I'm from, like, a month and a half into the future, dude," Scott says, instead of saying: you don't seem to like me anymore and it's tearing me apart. 

Stiles takes out his phone. Scott watches as he sends and a text and a moment later gets one in return. "Because that's not strange," he says, and holds the phone out to Scott to see.

On the screen is a text window with Scott, and the most recent reply -- the one Stiles just received -- is one Scott remembers sending to Stiles in the middle of helping his grandmother make dinner.

Scott's head hurts.

Stiles narrows his eyes. "And we're sure you're really Scott? How do we know you're not some sort of shape-shifting creature trying to take his place?"

Scott rolls his eyes and cuffs him on the side of the head, the same way he has since they were eight.

Deaton returns and says, "He's telling the truth." In Deaton's hands is a small amulet and it's glowing bright purple.

"Lavender signifies a temporal disturbance," Deaton says like this explains everything, placing the amulet the pocket of his lab coat. "Your story checks out."

Scott releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding. At least now he knows for sure that this is really happening. Not that that makes it better.

"How do I get back?" Scott asks.

Deaton stares at him for a long moment then sighs. "I'm not sure. In theory, whatever magic sent you here should send you back on its own."

"You have any idea know how long that'll take?" Scott asks.

Deaton shakes his head.

Scott sighs. "Great."

Stiles hoists himself up onto the examination table Scott's sitting on and throws an arm around his shoulders. "This is what we're going to do," he says. "You're going to come back to my place. My dad's working late for the next two weeks. He's not even going to notice that you're not in Michigan. We're going to order take out and do research on time travel while we watch movies and play Call of Duty."

Scott stares at him. Stiles seems to be taking the Scott-being-from-the-future thing quite well.

Stiles shrugs. "It's like a bonus week of summer vacation for you. Why waste it?"

*

Scott hangs back to talk to Deaton.

"How does time travel work?" he asks. "If I'm back here, does that mean I was back here before?"

"That depends," Deaton tells him. "There are two main theories about time travel. There's one that says that the act of time travel itself disrupts or even destroys the original timeline." 

Scott doesn't like the sound of that. "And the other theory?"

"The second theory is that the act of time travel is, in fact, part of the harmonious working of the timeline," Deaton explains. "The timeline cannot exist without the time travel. In your case, this theory would assume that in your timeline, your reality was unfolding under the influence of your act of time travel." 

Scott takes a moment to process the information that's been thrown at him. "But if this happened before, why didn't you or Stiles warn me that this was going to happen?"

Deaton seems to consider this. "Perhaps I didn't want to interfere. Perhaps I felt that your travel to this time was supposed to happen."

Scott isn't sure if he finds that answer comforting or not.

*

True to his word, Stiles sets him up with a large pizza, his dad's old laptop to do research with, and puts _The Muppets Take Manhattan_ on in the background.

They work like the used to, sitting on the couch side by side. It makes Scott's chest ache, because he missed this. He missed listening to Stiles talk about this, that and everything, and he missed the casual way Stiles touches him constantly. He missed _Stiles_ and with everything that's happened recently, the return of Stiles' affection is enough to make him dizzy.

"It's okay, man," Stiles says reassuringly, patting him on the back, and Scott realizes he's been staring into space. "We'll figure this out. We'll get you home."

Home is a place where Stiles won't look at him. Scott swallows. "Thanks," he says.

Stiles says, "We'll get you back... to the future!"

Scott blinks at him and despite the way he's feeling, a corner of his mouth quirk upwards.

Stiles shakes his head. "What? No laugh? My DeLorean-related jokes are wasted on you."

Scott snorts and punches Stiles gently in the arm. "Your jokes are terrible," he says and Stiles laughs.

*

They work until the movie ends and then they take a break to play Call of Duty. Stiles curses at some strangers over his headset and Scott just isn't feeling it. It's funny, Scott thinks, that all he wanted was his best friend back, and now that he's right in front of him it still feels off... because this Stiles is his Stiles, but also not his Stiles at all.

Scott's hasn't given up trying to figure out where everything went wrong between them. Scott lets his mind drift from the game and wonders what could've happened that could cause...

Scott drops his controller, then hurries to the bathroom and locks the door. He leans against it, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

He's spent the last month and a half asking himself what could possibly have happened to Stiles to make him so scared of Scott. He hasn't been able to come up with anything given that he wasn't even in the same state at the time, but the thing is, Scott is _here_. He's here right now in Stiles' house when he's not supposed to be. He's...

Scott lets himself slide to the bathroom floor and buries his face in his hands. 

It's him. He's the missing variable. He must've caused the rift in their friendship somehow.

It's unthinkable and it feels like his worst fears have come alive. Because whatever it was that happened, he's the one who did it to Stiles. He's the one who _hurt_ Stiles.

He stays on the bathroom floor for a good ten minutes. He only comes out when Stiles starts banging on the door and threatens to finish all the pizza if he doesn't hurry up.

*

Stiles is setting up Scott's sleeping bag on his bedroom floor. Scott is wearing borrowed pyjamas and all he can think is: _Stiles is going to get hurt_ and _I need to do something to stop it_.

He doesn't know what's going to happen so he doesn't know what to do or say.

"Are you going tell me what's bothering you?" Stiles asks. "Because I'm starting to think it's not all about time travel anymore."

Scott sighs and sits on the edge of Stiles' bed, bringing his legs up and wrapping his arms around them. "I think it's all time travel-related, actually," he admits.

Stiles plops down next to him and the mattress bounces.

"I'm worried about everyone," Scott says, starting on somewhat safer ground. "The last thing I saw was Jennifer Blake attack us. I don't know what happened. I mean, did she hurt you? Is Allison alright? What about Derek and the others? It's scary knowing that they could be in trouble and that there's nothing I can do to help."

"But you can't control that," Stiles points out. "That's, like, literally out of your hands. I'm sure future!me isn't upset at you because you were time-whammied into the past." Stiles frowns. "He's probably worried sick, actually." Scott whimpers and presses his face into his knees. "And on second thought, this line of reasoning isn't helping," Stiles says hurriedly. He places a hand on Scott's back and Scott focuses on that point of contact.

"I also…" Scott takes a deep breath to prepare himself for what he's about to say. It doesn't help. "In the future, you're scared of me."

Stiles doesn't say anything and when Scott risks looking up, Stiles is staring at him. 

"Wait. You're serious," Stiles says incredulously, twisting away from Scott to get a better look at his face. "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know," Scott admits, mumbling into his knees. "I really have no idea at all. You won't tell me or talk to me at all, really. Just. I went on vacation with my mom and when I got back it was like you were ready to slam your door in my face. You didn't want to see me at all. And you smelled... like you were scared I was going to hurt you."

Stiles is silent long enough that Scott feels the need to prompt, "Stiles?"

"That's now, isn't it?" Stiles says, putting it all together. "Whatever happened that you don't know about. It happened now. When you're on vacation but also apparently on a time traveling adventure." 

Scott does his best not to flinch as he says, "That's my best guess."

"And you're scared too?" Stiles asks. Up until that moment, Scott didn't think about it that way, but yeah, he's scared. He's scared of hurting Stiles. He's scared of creating that rift between them.

A terrible thought hits him: "What if I'm, like, a sleeper agent for Jennifer Blake?"

"What? Like she sent you back in time to murder me in the night?" Stiles asks. When Scott nods, Stiles rolls his eyes. "What would be the point of that? If she's that powerful, why bother with time travel at all? She could just have you murder me without it."

Scott grimaces. "Maybe I should go home and hide in my house for a week." He can't hurt Stiles if he's nowhere near him, right?

Stiles snorts. "Yeah, no. You're staying here tonight. If you disappear or start glowing lavender or something, I want to see it first-hand." His tone doesn't leave any room for argument.

Scott still isn't sure, and Stiles must sense it because he throws a careless arm over his shoulder. "Come on, Scott." 

Stiles is warm and he smells like the Stiles Scott remembers so well. Scott buries his head in Stiles' shoulder and breathes.

*

Scott wakes up feeling more relaxed than he has in ages. He's warm and it's only after he squints against the light from the sun coming in from the window that he remembers where he is and everything that happened.

He and Stiles ended up lying together in Stiles' bed talking late into the night about anything and everything, including video games, Allison, Lydia, Derek, lacrosse, the genius that is Jim Henson, and whether or not Boyd will ever ask Erica out.

Stiles is still asleep next to him and his heart rate is steady and calm. Scott takes a moment to study Stiles' profile. He's struck by the urge to reach out and trace his beauty marks. 

It hits him that the only other person he's ever wanted to touch like this is Allison. 

His sleep-fogged mind muses that his relationship with Allison is very different than his relationship with Stiles.

His mom once told him that relationships were about you and another person weaving yourselves together to make something -- that they were kind of like creating tapestries. Scott didn't understand what that meant until he and Allison broke up. It was as if, over the course of their relationship, they had come to share threads with each other. When they split up, it was like those threads were yanked apart. It hurt.

When Stiles stopped talking to him, that too was like a breakup of sorts. It felt like the threads of their friendship were under strain, but unlike with Allison, those threads were woven into the very foundation of Scott's life.

Allison hurt, but Stiles _aches_.

Scott reaches out and closes the small space separating them. He pulls Stiles against his chest, lets his head fit in the space between Stiles' neck and shoulder and holds on.

*

They spend the day doing very little. Scott takes a shower and borrows a change of clothes. Stiles lounges around for most of the day in pyjama pants and a t-shirt. They research time travel some more and Scott ends up spending the afternoon reading the Sheriff's sci-fi novels from the 1960s while Stiles pulls out his hair over physics articles that Scott doesn't even pretend to understand. 

At some point Stiles declares that he's had enough of temporal paradoxes and Einstein for one day and they curl up on the couch to rewatch _Firefly_. They start with Jaynestown because they can and order-in Chinese food. When it gets late, they just take the marathon upstairs and sit on Stiles' bed arguing over who is more badass: River or Zoe. 

He's having so much fun with Stiles, he almost forgets about time travel and impending disasters. 

Almost. 

He's still haunted by the feeling that he hurt Stiles and that he will hurt him again. He wants to make sure that doesn't happen. Scott thinks that this is why he ignores the sleeping bag and curls up on Stiles' bed again the second night. He thinks that this is why he pulls Stiles against him, and why it feels like the right thing to do. Scott clings to him, his fingers digging gently into Stiles' t-shirt.

Stiles looks at Scott with wide eyes, like he wants to ask a question. He smells like confusion. "What is it?" Scott asks him.

Stiles licks his lips and shakes his head. "It's nothing," he says, wrapping his own arms around Scott.

*

Scott wakes up to the Sheriff calling out something through Stiles' bedroom door. Stiles doesn't stir from where he's a warm heavy weight sprawled out on top of Scott. Stiles is using Scott's chest as a pillow and to Scott, he looks a little ridiculous from this angle, especially since he's drooling into Scott's (well, technically Stiles') t-shirt.

Scott tries to sit up. He doesn't move enough to dislodge Stiles but enough to get a look at the clock on the bedside table. Scott learns two things very quickly: it's eight forty-five in the morning and there's something jabbing him in the thigh.

Now that he focuses on it, the room smells like arousal. Stiles' arousal.

He thinks about waking Stiles up, pushing him towards the bathroom and either laughing it off or never mentioning it again, but Stiles is warm and also smells like contentment, so Scott tries to ignore it and go back to sleep. As he drifts off, he notices his own body reacting to the ways Stiles smells. He's not really surprised. Stiles smells good. Really good. Of course his body is reacting.

He thinks that these thoughts should worry him more, but before he can dwell on it, he's asleep again.

* 

Stiles is kicking the side of the bed. 

"I'm awake," Scott moans into his pillow and Stiles kicks the bed once more for good measure.

"I can't believe we slept in until one in the afternoon," Stiles is saying as he riffles through the clothing on his floor for a relatively clean pair of jeans.

Scott blinks at him. Stiles is wrapped in a towel and his skin is pink from the shower. The room still smells like arousal, but unlike earlier, it smells like both of them, instead of just Stiles.

It smells _fantastic_ , like nothing Scott has ever smelled before.

Scott tries not to think too hard about it and buries his head in his pillow, but it smells like them too. He closes his eyes.

Stiles, apparently annoyed that Scott's still not up, starts kicking the bed again.

*

Scott thinks this is the strangest day yet, because even after showers, breakfast, and a round of Mortal Kombat on Stiles' old NES, Stiles still smells faintly like arousal. This isn't the first time Scott has smelled arousal on Stiles, but it's the first time he's smelled it for such a long period of time when it's just been the two of them hanging out.

Scott excuses himself to the backyard when Stiles switches over to Mass Effect. Outside, the air is a little humid, but the weather is warm and Scott just stands in the sun for a few minutes. Out here, it doesn't smell like Stiles. Scott can still smell himself though and the first thing Scott thinks is that it doesn't smell as good or as right without Stiles' scent mixed in.

Scott sighs. Because apparently this is really happening. Because Scott's life wasn't complicated enough. 

But unlike the time travel business or the fear of hurting Stiles, this feeling doesn't feel scary or dangerous at all. It feels spontaneous at the same time it feels planned. It feels... _comfortable_. 

Scott's felt it before, he realizes. Many times. After he and Stiles rescued Erica and Boyd from the Argent's basement, Stiles had come back to his place. Stiles had been covered in cuts and bruises. Scott had pulled off his shirt, and cleaned and wrapped his wounds the way his mother had taught him. Scott remembers standing behind Stiles, seeing the mess of his back and being furious. Scott remembers wanting to wrap his arms around Stiles and wanting to make sure nothing like this ever happened again. Scott remembers the strange sensation of wanting to place a kiss on the back of Stiles' neck.

He remembers the night after he broke up with Allison -- how Stiles had curled up with him on the couch for hours. He remembers a time before Allison -- before Scott was turned. He remembers how Stiles had stayed with him after his dad left. He remembers how he had stayed with Stiles after his mother died. He remembers how they had held each other's hands the first time they watched Jurassic Park. 

He's never thought too hard about whatever this feeling is. When he tries to trace its origin, it seems like it has always existed. He's not surprised. He loves Stiles -- he has for a long time -- but he's not sure if that's the same as _loving_ Stiles. The only other example he has to work with is Allison. He was in love with her, he knows, but that felt so different from this particular type of contentment.

He closes his eye against the sun and wonders what will happen if he falls for this Stiles -- this one here and now -- when his own Stiles won't even speak at him.

*

Scott goes back inside an hour later to find Stiles sitting with his laptop open at the kitchen table. Scott's still not sure what he's feeling and if Stiles even feels the same way, but he wraps his arms around Stiles from behind and props his chin on Stiles' shoulder. Stiles has several tabs open -- all related to the physics of time travel.

"You find anything?" Scott asks next to Stiles' ear and instead of swatting him away, Stiles shudders.

"Not really," Stiles says.

And then they're still and silent, and Scott listens to Stiles' pulse pick up speed.

"Are we really doing this?" Stiles asks.

Scott pulls away, and Stiles stands and turns so that they're facing each other.

"Is this something you want to do?" Scott asks.

Stiles fidgets. He looks around the room, licks his lips and finally says, "Yeah, I think so."

Scott nods. Stiles smells confused and worried, but mostly excited and hopeful. Scott wants to reach out and touch Stiles but he's not sure if he should or not. He's not really paying attention to words anymore so he startles when Stiles asks, "What about you?" 

"What about me?" 

Stiles looks Scott in the eye when he asks, "Is this something you want?" 

It's then that Scott smells it: the bitter smell -- the fear Scott recognizes from his Stiles -- and it feels like being plunged into cold water. He feels like he's choking. Scott wants to run from it -- get as far away from it as he can -- and it must show on his face because Stiles' eyes go wide and the smell of fear increases.

"Oh," Scott says, as it finally starts making sense: why this fear smelled so different and why it was directed only at him. It's fear, but it's not a fear-of-death kind of fear. It's Stiles' fear of rejection. From Scott.

Which is ridiculous, because Scott is right here and he knows what he wants. He wants Stiles. 

He opens his mouth to call out to Stiles, but before he can say anything, there's suddenly the sharp colour of electric blue invading the edges of his vision. It takes him a moment to recognize it, but when he realizes what's happening, Scott manages to say, shocked, "Stiles, I'm leaving," before the blue envelopes him and he's gone.

He stands in the sky blue space of the in-between and shouts in frustration, because that's not what he wanted to say at all. Now Stiles will think that he--

He'll think--

The pieces click together. The fear and the avoidance. The timing. It all comes together.

Scott feels his eyes flash red as he shouts, "What the hell? All I needed was, like, thirty more seconds!"

Then everything goes black.

*

"Look, Scott," his mother is saying, "I'd like to stay in bed all day too, but I've got work and you've got that chemistry test so you're gonna have to get up."

Scott makes an incoherent noise and blinks up at her.

"That's my boy," she says, patting his cheek twice before walking out of the room.

Scott watches her go and then startles upright, his blankets pooling at his waist. He looks down at himself and realizes he's wearing the clothing Stiles lent to him.

He reaches for his phone, and when he can't find it, he trips over his own feet crossing the room to power up his computer. The date and time stamp on his desktop tells him that he's made it back to his own time and that he's going to be late for school if he doesn't hurry.

Scott doesn't feel like hurrying though. He feels a bit like maybe he's in shock. He lies back on his bed and stares at the ceiling for a while. He feels numb and doesn't think about much of anything. When he starts thinking again, he thinks about temporal paradoxes and about the fact that he's back -- back to a time where Stiles is scared of him. 

Except it's different now, Scott realizes. Before, Scott had no idea what was going on. Now, Scott has a pretty damn good idea. 

He reviews the past few weeks with this new information in mind: from the missed calls to the way Stiles avoided him at school. He remembers when this started at their _Star Wars_ marathon and when it hits him that Stiles has been unnecessarily carrying this misery around for weeks, he feels sick to his stomach.

He's still feeling dazed when he gets out of bed and begins his morning routine, but he knows he needs to leave the house today. He needs to make sure everyone's alright and he needs to see Stiles. He needs to fix this.

*

Deaton is in his office when Scott lets himself in. He smiles when he sees Scott. "It's good to see you, Scott. We weren't sure when you'd return."

Scott rushes over to him. "Is everyone okay? Where's Jennifer Blake?" 

"Everyone's fine, Scott," Deaton says, gently placing his hands on Scott's shoulders to calm him. "As far as we can tell, the only one she was after was you. Once she cast her spell, she left."

"So Stiles is okay? And so is--"

"They're all fine. Not even minor injuries."

Scott collapses into one of Deaton's visitor's chairs and dumps his helmet and gloves on Deaton's desk. He takes a deep breath and then another and tries to process his own relief. It should be easy, he thinks, but he's still processing a lot of other things and his head feels like one giant mess of feelings.

The next thing he knows, Deaton is handing him a cup of tea. It's warm and Scott recognizes it by its scent as camomile. Scott thanks him and Deaton sits down in the chair next to him, his own cup of tea in his hand. "I take it you had quite the adventure."

"Time travel makes my head hurt," Scott admits and Deaton chuckles.

"It's known to do that."

Scott looks down at his tea. "It was the second theory, by the way. The one where the time travel impacts the timeline instead of re-writing it."

"You were supposed to go back in time," Deaton says. It isn't a question.

"You knew it was going to happen." It isn't an accusation. Scott asks, "Why didn't you warn me?"

Deaton takes a sip of his tea. "I didn't think I needed to."

"But Jennifer Blake--"

"--is someone I knew a long time ago." He sighs. He suddenly looks very tired. "Did you know, Scott, that time travel is a very powerful spell? It takes a huge quantity of magical energy to do it and for the foresight to know what part of the timeline to impact. That kind of magic is rarely malicious simply because of the amount of power it takes to cast. To change something dramatically eats up more power than she could ever have access to. I knew she was aiming for something small."

"And that was still okay how?"

"With her level of power, I couldn't see her trying to negatively influence the timeline."

Scott snorts, feeling raw anger for the first time since he woke up. "Stiles and I have been miserable for weeks."

"Then perhaps I was mistaken." He frowns into his tea cup and then says, “Deucalion is dead. Julia was on a mission of revenge. She promised she would stop when it was over. She's even gone through the trouble of draining herself of power."

"You believe her," Scott realizes.

"Part of me wants to."

Scott doesn't think he could trust her. Last time he checked, Jennifer Blake was killing people to... oh no. Scott feels sick. "Did she use the power she gained from the sacrifices to send me back in time?"

"I doubt it," Deaton says and he grips Scott's shoulder in a way meant to be reassuring. "It's likely she used up the Nematon's power on Deucalion. I'm betting she used up almost all of her own power to work the spell on you."

That still doesn't make sense to Scott. "But why?"

"When you met with her, before she sent you back in time, what did she say?"

Scott thinks back to the warehouse. "She said she wanted a truce. She said she would prove herself to us." Scott frowns. "She said she liked Stiles."

"And why did she send you back in time?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Scott says, frustrated. "All that happened was that Stiles and I--" Scott almost spills his tea, because the only thing that makes sense is that Jennifer Blake, of all people, was trying to play matchmaker. For him and Stiles. Through time travel. 

That can't be what Deaton is suggesting. It's ridiculous. It's improbable. Knowing his life, it's... probably exactly what happened.

Scott looks to Deaton for confirmation and Deaton is smiling at him in a way that suggests he might also be laughing. Scott rests his head on Deaton's desk and groans. 

*

Scott makes it to school in time for chemistry third period. He nods at Boyd and then writes Harris' test though to him it's been days since he studied for it. Fourth period is a blur of discussions about Shakespeare and then finally, _finally_ class is over. Scott grabs his bag and runs for the parking lot.

He finds Stiles by his jeep.

"You're back," Stiles says when he spots Scott, and he looks relieved, but also scared and confused and upset. He still smells like fear. It makes Scott's heart ache.

Stiles opens the driver's side door and reaches inside to get something. A moment later he tosses that something at Scott. Scott catches it. It's his phone and it reminds Scott that they both know about the time travel now.

"We need to talk," Scott says. Stiles doesn't look like he wants to talk at all, so Scott adds, "Please. Please just hear me out."

Stiles hops into his jeep like he's going to drive off and leave Scott in the dust, but then he rolls down his window and tells Scott, "I'll meet you at your place."

Scott breathes a sigh of relief and gets on his bike.

*

Stiles is bouncing and his legs are shaking when Scott lets him into the house. He wouldn't need his werewolf senses to know that Stiles is nervous, and the smell of fear is stronger now, maybe stronger than it has ever been.

The second the door is closed behind them, Stiles says, "You know now." His voice is quiet and he sounds like all the hope has been drained out of him. It makes Scott want to cry.

"I didn't--"

"Shut up," Stiles says, cutting Scott off before he can say anything at all. He sags against the door and rubs his forehead. "I know you don't, okay? I get it. I don't need to hear it." He reaches for the doorknob, but Scott catches his arm.

"No, listen to me. Please!"

Stiles pulls his arm away from Scott, and it feels like a slap to the face. "To you reject me? Yeah, no thanks. I don't know why I came."

As he reaches for the doorknob again, Scott asks, "Why are you so sure that I'll reject you?"

Stiles abandons the doorknob and turns on him. Hurt and anger colour his voice as he hisses, "You couldn't answer a simple yes or no question! Actually, instead of answering anything, you panicked, announced you were leaving and boom -- you disappeared!"

Scott winces. 

"Yeah, exactly," Stiles says.

"Stiles, I wanted to answer," Scott says, trying to keep his own frustration out of his voice. "It's just that from my perspective, you've spent weeks smelling like you're scared of me which has been more than a little alarming. Back then, in the summer, you didn't smell like fear at all. Until you asked me how I felt. Then you reeked of it, and it was a shock, okay? All I could breathe in was what it smelled like when I thought you were upset at me. If the universe had given me like a minute more, I could've explained."

Stiles is glaring at him. "You still haven't answered the question."

Scott closes the space between them and wraps his arms around Stiles. Stiles is stiff against him. "You asked me if I wanted this." Scott reaches for the contentment he felt back in Stiles' kitchen before everything went to hell. He finds it easily like it was waiting deep inside of him for him to access it. He feels it unfurl within him and warm him all the way down to his toes. Scott tries to convey that feeling, as well as his feelings of love and wonder when he says, "I want you. I want this."

Scott buries his face in Stiles' shoulder and feels as much as he hears Stiles gasp. "And I hate Jennifer Blake for making you think for a second that I didn't. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry you've walked around with this for weeks. I'm--"

"Scott," Stiles says.

"Yeah?" Scott asks, and Stiles slowly pushes him away.

Stiles is smiling at him. It's small, mostly a quirk upwards on one side of his mouth, but it's there. "I get it," he says and then he leans forward and brings their lips together. 

*

They wake up tangled around each other on Scott's bed and Stiles no longer smells anything remotely like fear. Even though all they did was talk and kiss, the room is heavy with their combined scents and it somehow smells even better than it did back in the summer. Scott grins against Stiles' hair and breathes it in. Being with Stiles feels good and warm and like it is easy and _right_ , and Scott still isn't sure how he missed this for so long.

It's Stiles' turn to borrow a change of clothing and they head to school together. They sit next to each other in their first two classes, and at lunch, Scott makes Stiles sit with him, Boyd, Erica and Isaac. Stiles clings to him, laughing into Scott's shoulder at one of Boyd's jokes, and it's the best time Scott's had at school all semester.

Stiles drags Scott back to his place after school so they can make out some more and watch the last of the _Star Wars_ trilogy. Stiles is straddling his lap, his precious movie forgotten in the background, when he nips Scott's mouth and says, "I still can't get over the fact that it took time travel for us to get together. Also, you make a terrible Marty McFly." 

Scott laughs, shoves at him gently and then leans up to kiss him again.


End file.
